


The Underwhelming Flower

by Mystradigans



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Desi Harry Potter, Desi Potter Family, F/M, Gen, Jealousy, Missing Scene, Racism, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 23:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14704512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystradigans/pseuds/Mystradigans
Summary: ...' Petunia's mother had shown her pictures last time she'd made the mistake of taking Dudley to visit the widow-ish, stuffy bungalow she lived in now. Photos of the underweight, dark-skinned, mop-haired baby were in pride of place at the centre of the windowsill, with Dudley's photos relegated to the side next to some cousin's holiday snaps. Of course, mother would want to show off her younger grandon's pictures. She'd always made a huge display of how thrilled she was that her witch-daughter was dating an Indian boy. "An ethnic in the family!". '...Petunia's take on the events of chapter one of The Philosopher's Stone





	The Underwhelming Flower

Petunia fucking hated Americans.

 

Maybe fucking was too strong a word. Hated wasn't, she knew that, despite everything her grandmother used to say from under her curvette hat and thick lily-of-the-valley perfume. _"Hate is a strong word for little girls, Petunia"._ Her grandma had hated plenty of things, it was just the word she disapproved of.

 

Still, Petunia tried not to swear, or, at least, she tried not to be the type of woman who swore. So she just... _really..._ hated Americans, for a lot of reasons, (largely their nasty, fattening food and excessively loud voices), but today she hated them because of this Halloween nonsense. When she was growing up, no-one would have thought to dress in ridiculous cloaks or.. encourage owls to fly around in broad daylight, but after that tacky _Amityville Horror_ film suddenly the British public had gone mad. Some mass 'trick', she supposed. Completely unnecessary, and misguided anyway: the majority of the disturbances had happened yesterday, on November the first, not the thirty-first of October. Teenagers hearing about it on the radio and deciding to join in, she supposed.

 

Even Vernon had fallen to it, though perhaps that shouldn't surprise her considering he'd believed that the world was ending in 1978 because some magazine printed it. He'd assumed it had something to do with... that lot... her sister, and that untidy boy she'd brought home. Petunia wrinkled her nose and pushed aside her toast-and-coffee breakfast, having suddenly lost her appetite. Her stomach curled uncomfortably, even though she knew rationally that the events on the radio could have nothing to do with that type. It was unpleasant even to hear Vernon mention them yesterday, Lily and her husband and their spawn.

 

Petunia's mother had shown her pictures last time she'd made the mistake of taking Dudley to visit the widow-ish, stuffy bungalow she lived in now. Photos of the underweight, dark-skinned, mop-haired baby were in pride of place at the centre of the windowsill, with Dudley's photos relegated to the side next to some cousin's holiday snaps. Of course, mother would want to show off her younger grandon's pictures. She'd always made a huge display of how _thrilled_ she was that her witch-daughter was dating an Indian boy. _"An ethnic in the family!"_. She could easily imagine her mother boasting about her mixed-race grandchild to her bingo friends, the way both parents had bragged about attending 'a real Hindu wedding' when Lily had jumped into a marriage at nineteen with her boyfriend of barely a year purely, Petunia was convinced, to undermine her own wedding. Her mother had worn a Sari for god's sake. No-one else had worn a bloody Sari, apart from Potter's ancient, scowling mother, the few 'brown' relatives he had (two cousin's on his mother's side and their husbands) had dressed _normally_ , in blue dresses and black suits- though one cousin had audibly complained during the dance that these 'muggle shoes' were killing her, forcing Petunia to assure her confused Aunt Margret that 'muggle' was a modern designer of heels. Worse than this was Potter's Uncle, on the white side of the family no less, who'd clearly ignored the invitation specifying that not-wizards would be attending and worn robes in muddy yellow. Petunia herself had blankly rebuffed her mother's suggestion to wear a Sari, ( _"for Christ's sake Mum, not even Lily's wearing a Sari!"_ ) and worn a floral dress that disguised her growing baby bump and bracelets that drew attention to her enormous engagement ring.

 

The radio was beeping to signify the six-thirty news update. She turned it off abruptly, not wanting to hear more rubbish about owls and shooting stars. Six-thirty... Vernon would be up soon. He'd want a bacon sandwich for breakfast, liked to eat them in the traffic on the way to work. An unpleasant habit, got grease all over the gears, but Petunia indulged it. And not long after that, Dudley would be hungry... the child was angelic and slept through the night unlike so many of the spoiled toddlers at her mothering group, waking up only when he wanted breakfast. Pancakes was his favourite at the moment, with chocolate spread.  That reminded her, she ought to get the milk in. Petunia abandoned her toast and crossed into the sitting room, passing the still-drawn curtains and fumbling with the key in the door for a moment before opening it, looking down, and screaming.

 

Heart thumping, she slammed the door shut again and stood for a moment in the shoehall with her eyes shut tight. She pinched herself hard on the arm: it hurt. Not a nightmare then. She cautiously pushed the door open and stared in horror at the bundle on her doorstep where the milk should have been.

 

Fast asleep and clutching a letter addressed to her in the fist that wasn't wedged into its mouth, was a mixed-raced, half-wizard, forehead-scarred baby. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was an exercise in trying to capture JK's writing style and explore a character I've never considered before I guess? Feedback would be incredible <3


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